Wildpaw : Afar and back again [UTS]
Jun 20, 2018 14:44:17 GMT -5
Post by Blue Apples on Jun 20, 2018 14:44:17 GMT -5
Theme: Castle On The Hill - Ed Sheeran
Once the twolegs receded from the forest, RiverClan, like many others, had only a handful of cats left. Most, if not everyone, was grieving for the loss of their family and friends- especially Wildpaw, who had lost all but two of his brothers and his dearest mentor. Had it not been for those two cats the elder apprentice would’ve surely given in to heart crushing depression. And while he would never truly recover from the loss, their companionship did ease the sting.
Unfortunately, the comfort would be brief. With Gullthorn having abandoned RiverClan to search for his missing sister, his clanmates were left in a precarious position. No medicine cat apprentice had been named, nor did StarClan send a sign for any cat destined to replace them. This meant even the smallest outbreak of illness would spell doom for the river-dwelling felines.
Thankfully, their first leafbare passed by without incident. With less mouths to feed there was less strain on those who could hunt. During the following newleaf and greenleaf most cats were able to remain healthy; there were a few injuries, simple ones that were easily dealt with by cobwebs.
The second leaf-bare provided a bigger challenge, however. All started off well until a few warriors began to develop a cough. It quickly spread to the others, some developing a more fatal form. Unwilling to go down without a fight, those with any kind of medical knowledge pooled together what they knew to sort out a treatment.
Without much to go on the RiverClanners decided on a number of experimental treatments, each ill cat receiving a slightly different regiment. While a good idea in theory, in practice it resulted in deaths. Among those that didn’t survive were Wildpaw’s siblings; and it was with their deaths that the young tom decided to cut his loses.
When leafbare began to let up, the apprentice informed his leader of his intent to depart from the Clan. Instead of the hostile reaction he had been expecting, Mallowstar greeted his decision with compassion and wished him good luck on his journey. The only other cat to hear of his leaving was Larkflower.
A moon of wayward wondering eventually led Wildpaw to a twoleg civilization. Though cautious at first, the young tom took to the life of an alley cat rather well. His hunting prowess gave him an edge against any competitors (when he could find good hunting grounds that is) and his shoddy battle tactics, at the very least, warded away a few hostile felines.
Wildpaw lived a modest life, taking only what he needed and nothing more. He skulked the very edges of the town, rarely venturing further into twisting roads of stone and the guttural cries of the twoleg monsters. Such a lifestyle seemed doomed to loneliness, but for the dark bengal this was hardly the case.
In time he would come to befriend two other toms, alley cats like himself. Their initial meeting was a rather strange one, for while it was Wildpaw’s first time seeing them, Nero and Flint had spent quite a bit of time watching the wild-cat from afar. It was the dead of winter, a time where all outdoor living cats found it a struggle to keep themselves going, yet some strange cat was not only surviving, but thriving throughout the unforgiving cold. The two had approached him with questions, and after sure that they posed no threat Wildpaw was happy to teach them. And from there friendship was quick to blossom.
Together the trio would get themselves into all sorts of mischief, whether it be running from dogs for sport or challenging each other to touch the paws of a sleeping monster. It wasn’t RiverClan, but Wildpaw was happy to have their companionship.
And even further along he would eventually add a fourth cat to his party: a pretty little tabby kittypet who would go on to become his mate. She went against everything he thought he knew about the pampered house pets, and perhaps that was what made her so alluring. They would never have kits of their own, more so due to twoleg interferrace than by choice, but that missed chance never seemed to truly bother them.
It was to these cats who the bengal tom would come to share his tales of RiverClan and the forest. At first it was merely the mention of his heritage in passing, but over time it became a sharing of experiences. Of his first hunting lesson, where a younger Wildpaw had become the prey to a very prickly bush. Of attending a Gathering that degraded into a battle over morals. Of making friends in two rival Clans; of how he never received his warrior name due to failing his assessment. Of the terror of nearly losing a friend in war, and the heart crushing despair that went along with the death of a family member.
He even shared with them his belief in StarClan, where he’d be able to see all his friends and family again once he passed on. As morbid a confession as it was, the tom looked forward to that day he’d be reunited with his Clan.
It wouldn’t be until many moons later that he would receive his wish. In the end, Wildpaw lost his life to a twoleg monster, struck down in his older years. His spirit lingered in the town long enough to bid a silent farewell to his friends and mate before it rushed toward camp- toward home.
Once the twolegs receded from the forest, RiverClan, like many others, had only a handful of cats left. Most, if not everyone, was grieving for the loss of their family and friends- especially Wildpaw, who had lost all but two of his brothers and his dearest mentor. Had it not been for those two cats the elder apprentice would’ve surely given in to heart crushing depression. And while he would never truly recover from the loss, their companionship did ease the sting.
Unfortunately, the comfort would be brief. With Gullthorn having abandoned RiverClan to search for his missing sister, his clanmates were left in a precarious position. No medicine cat apprentice had been named, nor did StarClan send a sign for any cat destined to replace them. This meant even the smallest outbreak of illness would spell doom for the river-dwelling felines.
Thankfully, their first leafbare passed by without incident. With less mouths to feed there was less strain on those who could hunt. During the following newleaf and greenleaf most cats were able to remain healthy; there were a few injuries, simple ones that were easily dealt with by cobwebs.
The second leaf-bare provided a bigger challenge, however. All started off well until a few warriors began to develop a cough. It quickly spread to the others, some developing a more fatal form. Unwilling to go down without a fight, those with any kind of medical knowledge pooled together what they knew to sort out a treatment.
Without much to go on the RiverClanners decided on a number of experimental treatments, each ill cat receiving a slightly different regiment. While a good idea in theory, in practice it resulted in deaths. Among those that didn’t survive were Wildpaw’s siblings; and it was with their deaths that the young tom decided to cut his loses.
When leafbare began to let up, the apprentice informed his leader of his intent to depart from the Clan. Instead of the hostile reaction he had been expecting, Mallowstar greeted his decision with compassion and wished him good luck on his journey. The only other cat to hear of his leaving was Larkflower.
A moon of wayward wondering eventually led Wildpaw to a twoleg civilization. Though cautious at first, the young tom took to the life of an alley cat rather well. His hunting prowess gave him an edge against any competitors (when he could find good hunting grounds that is) and his shoddy battle tactics, at the very least, warded away a few hostile felines.
Wildpaw lived a modest life, taking only what he needed and nothing more. He skulked the very edges of the town, rarely venturing further into twisting roads of stone and the guttural cries of the twoleg monsters. Such a lifestyle seemed doomed to loneliness, but for the dark bengal this was hardly the case.
In time he would come to befriend two other toms, alley cats like himself. Their initial meeting was a rather strange one, for while it was Wildpaw’s first time seeing them, Nero and Flint had spent quite a bit of time watching the wild-cat from afar. It was the dead of winter, a time where all outdoor living cats found it a struggle to keep themselves going, yet some strange cat was not only surviving, but thriving throughout the unforgiving cold. The two had approached him with questions, and after sure that they posed no threat Wildpaw was happy to teach them. And from there friendship was quick to blossom.
Together the trio would get themselves into all sorts of mischief, whether it be running from dogs for sport or challenging each other to touch the paws of a sleeping monster. It wasn’t RiverClan, but Wildpaw was happy to have their companionship.
And even further along he would eventually add a fourth cat to his party: a pretty little tabby kittypet who would go on to become his mate. She went against everything he thought he knew about the pampered house pets, and perhaps that was what made her so alluring. They would never have kits of their own, more so due to twoleg interferrace than by choice, but that missed chance never seemed to truly bother them.
It was to these cats who the bengal tom would come to share his tales of RiverClan and the forest. At first it was merely the mention of his heritage in passing, but over time it became a sharing of experiences. Of his first hunting lesson, where a younger Wildpaw had become the prey to a very prickly bush. Of attending a Gathering that degraded into a battle over morals. Of making friends in two rival Clans; of how he never received his warrior name due to failing his assessment. Of the terror of nearly losing a friend in war, and the heart crushing despair that went along with the death of a family member.
He even shared with them his belief in StarClan, where he’d be able to see all his friends and family again once he passed on. As morbid a confession as it was, the tom looked forward to that day he’d be reunited with his Clan.
It wouldn’t be until many moons later that he would receive his wish. In the end, Wildpaw lost his life to a twoleg monster, struck down in his older years. His spirit lingered in the town long enough to bid a silent farewell to his friends and mate before it rushed toward camp- toward home.